


This Isn’t Me (Not Anymore)

by flipflop_diva



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Porn, F/F, HP: EWE, Post - Deathly Hallows, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 20:36:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2481557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days Hermione Granger thought she actually died during the war, because the girl who escaped — the girl who lived — was nothing like she remembered being. Originally written for the prompt "rush" for the LJ comm, hp-humpdrabbles, Hump Madness. Contains Semi-graphic sex and mentions of (canon) torture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Isn’t Me (Not Anymore)

Some days Hermione Granger thought she actually died during the war, tortured to death in Malfoy Manor, her body forever entombed in its cold, dark dungeon, her soul trapped within its expensive walls, because the girl who escaped — the girl who lived — was nothing like she remembered being.

The Hermione Granger she pictured in her head was smart, practical, responsible. She knew everything because she made it her mission to learn everything. She did all her homework, she always went to class.

“The brightest witch of her age” some even said.

That Hermione Granger — that responsible, practical girl — would never, not even if her life depended on it, risk skipping class to be caught in a dusty old alcove on the fourth floor, half-naked and with her legs spread open, moaning in pleasure at the way Pansy Parkinson’s fingers were moving inside her.

But this new Hermione couldn’t help herself. This new Hermione didn’t care about books or essays or house elves’ plights. This new Hermione only wanted escape.

Escape from the pain, escape from the memories, escape from the nightmares, escape from the words carved into her skin that served to remind her over and over of what she had been through.

She had tried everything. Potions, spells, magical ointments. Nothing worked. The words were still there. The memories wouldn’t vanish.

And then she had discovered this.

It had scared her at first — the rush of adrenaline, the rush of excitement, the rush of knowing they could be caught at any second.

But now …

Hermione closed her eyes. She could hear the chimes echoing somewhere around them. It was two o’clock. In a few moments, the halls would be filled with students making their way from one class to another.

She and Pansy were hidden behind a statue, but just barely. It would only take one student glancing over, one professor wondering where the two of them were.

But Pansy didn’t care. And she didn’t stop. She never did. Maybe she didn’t even notice. Instead, Pansy’s fingers sped up, thrusting and twisting with as much force as she could muster. Her mouth encircled Hermione’s clit, sucking as hard as she dared. Her free hand held on to Hermione’s hip, keeping her down.

Not that Hermione had any intention of going anywhere.

The sound of footsteps began to come closer. Pansy’s fingers moved even faster. Laughter stretched down the hall, filling Hermione’s ears. Hermione’s body jerked under Pansy’s ministrations. 

Two pairs of feet stopped right beside their hiding place. Pansy bit down on Hermione’s clit.

A girl laughed. Hermione screamed. Pansy kept going. Hermione screamed again.

A few minutes later, the hall was clear. They hadn’t been caught.

“Should we try again?” Pansy asked.

“Yes,” said Hermione, and she spread her legs even more.


End file.
